The Complete Historical Plays of William Shakespeare. William Shakespeare
BASTARD.
Here’s a stay
That shakes the rotten carcase of old Death
Out of his rags! Here’s a large mouth, indeed,
That spits forth death and mountains, rocks and seas;
Talks as familiarly of roaring lions
As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs!
What cannoneer begot this lusty blood?
He speaks plain cannon,—fire and smoke and bounce;
He gives the bastinado with his tongue;
Our ears are cudgell’d; not a word of his
But buffets better than a fist of France.
Zounds! I was never so bethump’d with words
Since I first call’d my brother’s father dad.
ELINOR.
Son, list to this conjunction, make this match;
Give with our niece a dowry large enough;
For by this knot thou shalt so surely tie
Thy now unsur’d assurance to the crown,
That yon green boy shall have no sun to ripe
The bloom that promiseth a mighty fruit.
I see a yielding in the looks of France;
Mark how they whisper: urge them while their souls
Are capable of this ambition,
Lest zeal, now melted by the windy breath
Of soft petitions, pity, and remorse,
Cool and congeal again to what it was.
FIRST CITIZEN.
Why answer not the double majesties
This friendly treaty of our threaten’d town?
KING PHILIP.
Speak England first, that hath been forward first
To speak unto this city: what say you?
KING JOHN.
If that the Dauphin there, thy princely son,
Can in this book of beauty read ‘I love,’
Her dowry shall weigh equal with a queen;
For Anjou, and fair Touraine, Maine, Poictiers,
And all that we upon this side the sea,—
Except this city now by us besieg’d,—
Find liable to our crown and dignity,
Shall gild her bridal bed; and make her rich
In titles, honours, and promotions,
As she in beauty, education, blood,
Holds hand with any princess of the world.
KING PHILIP.
What say’st thou, boy? look in the lady’s face.
LOUIS.
I do, my lord, and in her eye I find
A wonder, or a wondrous miracle,
The shadow of myself form’d in her eye;
Which, being but the shadow of your son,
Becomes a sun, and makes your son a shadow:
I do protest I never lov’d myself
Till now infixed I beheld myself
Drawn in the flattering table of her eye.
[Whispers with BLANCH.]
BASTARD.
[Aside.] Drawn in the flattering table of her eye!—
Hang’d in the frowning wrinkle of her brow,
And quarter’d in her heart!—he doth espy
Himself love’s traitor! This is pity now,
That, hang’d, and drawn, and quarter’d, there should be
In such a love so vile a lout as he.
BLANCH.
My uncle’s will in this respect is mine.
If he see aught in you that makes him like,
That anything he sees, which moves his liking
I can with ease translate it to my will;
Or if you will, to speak more properly,
I will enforce it easily to my love.
Further, I will not flatter you, my lord,
That all I see in you is worthy love,
Than this,—that nothing do I see in you,
Though churlish thoughts themselves should be your judge,—
That I can find should merit any hate.
KING JOHN.
What say these young ones?—What say you, my niece?
BLANCH.
That she is bound in honour still to do
What you in wisdom still vouchsafe to say.
KING JOHN.
Speak then, Prince Dauphin; can you love this lady?
LOUIS.
Nay, ask me if I can refrain from love;
For I do love her most unfeignedly.
KING JOHN.
Then do I give Volquessen, Touraine, Maine,
Poictiers, and Anjou, these five provinces,
With her to thee; and this addition more,
Full thirty thousand marks of English coin.—
Philip of France, if thou be pleas’d withal,
Command thy son and daughter to join hands.
KING PHILIP.
It likes us well.—Young princes, close your hands.
AUSTRIA.
And your lips too; for I am well assur’d
That I did so when I was first assur’d.
KING PHILIP.
Now, citizens of Angiers, ope your gates,
Let in that amity which you have made;
For at Saint Mary’s chapel presently
The rites of marriage shall be solemniz’d.—
Is not the Lady Constance in this troop?
I know she is not; for this match made up
Her presence would have interrupted much:
Where is she and her son? tell me, who knows.
LOUIS.
She is sad and passionate at your highness’ tent.
KING PHILIP.
And, by my faith, this league that we have made
Will give her sadness very little cure.—
Brother of England, how may we content
This widow lady? In her right we came;
Which we, God knows, have turn’d another way,
To our own vantage.
KING JOHN.
We will heal up all;
For we’ll create young Arthur Duke of Bretagne,
And Earl of Richmond; and this rich fair town
We make him lord of.—Call the Lady Constance:
Some speedy messenger bid her repair
To our solemnity:—I trust we shall,
If not fill up the measure